


Notice

by orphan_account



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Dark!Molly, F/M, Serial Killers, sherlock totes gets a boner from crime things, shush it's cliched
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-22
Updated: 2012-12-22
Packaged: 2017-11-21 23:57:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/603482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account





	Notice

There was a new serial killer in London which always set Sherlock's blood aflame. He went for pretty girls, young ones. Early twenties to early thirties. He always cut their heart out, a clean cut, doctor's precision. There was also an element of randomness to the kills too, one girl absolutely reeked of soiled coffee, another was covered in lipstick. It made no sense and it was beautiful.

\---

"Could it be Moriarty?" John asks, standing over the fifth victim (pasta stuffed in her bra, strangest one yet).

Sherlock scoffs, running a gloved hand up the corpse's leg, staring at the blank surface as if he might find something on the clean glove.

"Honestly, not every serial killer looking for my attention is Moriarty. Well, not exactly him."

"The cabbie was Moriarty," John pointed out. Molly stumbled into the morgue, almost tripping over her own feet and spilling the coffee.

"I… I also got some crisps since I don't think you've eaten breakfast and I… I think…" She stuttered and smiled, shoving the crisps towards John who took them and smiled gently.

"Thank you, Molly, but I don't eat while I'm working, you know that."

John sighed heavily and set the packets of crisps on the table, glaring at Sherlock who was pressing against the outline of the incision into her heart.

"What do they want?" he muttered, snapping off his gloves and moving towards the door. He dropped his gloves in the bin and looked back at John, then at Molly, his eyes running up and down her figure.

"Come on, John," Sherlock ordered and John made a face and shrugged at Molly, patting her shoulder as he left, abandoning the crisps on the counter.

Molly sighed heavily and stepped over to the corpse, tracing her jaw with gentle hands knowing there would have to be another victim. Soon. Tonight, maybe.

\---

Sherlock's hand were in his pocket. He hadn't wanted to go out tonight, but John was being an outright prat, insisting that he _eat_ and no he _can't_ go outside for a cigarette, his nicotine patches had to be enough.

So Sherlock had stormed out. Usually it was John who left but that was because Sherlock was always the insufferable one. He was utterly pissed off and well, he wouldn't have smoked if John hadn't told him not to. He wouldn't be angry if he still lived alone, though he had to think of all the good things John had done, such as not leave.

People were giving him odd stares, he was probably talking to himself, he needed to get off the streets, somewhere quieter, somewhere to think.

He nearly tripped over the body.

Oh.

 _Oh,_ that was nice. One of his serial killer's victims too, he wished he had some gloves to inspect. The body was so warm, hadn't even begun the first stages of rigor mortis. The heart was cut out, though. There didn't seem to be anything special about this one, thought there had to be _something._ He didn't want to disturb the body, compromise evidence, but he was so curious.

"Oh!" he heard a soft squeak from behind him. "Sh-sherlock, I didn't think you'd… I didn't think you'd get here this early."

Sherlock turned on his heel. He knew the voice, it was Molly, but he didn't honestly think…

"Molly?" Sherlock asked, just to be sure, taking the cigarette from his mouth and holding them between his fingers. She was covered in blood, the victim's heart still in her hands and she looked so embarrassed, more like she'd been caught picking her nose rather than having just murdered someone. "Are you…?"

"You wouldn't notice me," she pouted, cradling the heart to her chest, almost as if she were holding a teddy bear. "I'm just sick of being invisible."

"Jim didn't start this, did he?" Sherlock snapped, looking worriedly around the alley. He could have just been using her. If you kill girls Sherlock will notice you, he'll notice me.

"No!" Molly barked. "No! He didn’t. He just… Well, he was only threatening people and you… and I was thinking… If you didn't threaten, just killed, then you'd be _bound_ to notice. And, well, I'm smarter than you think. And I work in a morgue I know how to cover up my tracks."

"And even if you did leave evidence, you could erase it from the bodies. Oh, Molly, you're brilliant," Sherlock breathed, his face alight with the utter bliss of having figured it all out.

He stepped forward and took the organ from Molly's hands, staining his own hands with blood. She looked like she might cry.

"I'm… I'm sorry, I just wanted you to notice me," she repeated and stifled a sob.

Sherlock just smiled and leaned down to kiss her.

"No, it.. It was enough. I wasn't aware how big of a crush yours was… It's.. It's sweet, I think is the right word. Sort of… fuzzy, I guess."

Molly smiled and wrapped her arms around Sherlock's waist, pressing her face into his chest.

"You don't hate me?" she asked, voice soft and pleading.

"Of course not!" Sherlock replied and turned to drop the heart and his cigarette in the dumpster before going back to kiss Molly again, slow and deep.

"Dinner?" he suggested when Molly pushed him away and she let out a choked laugh and nodded.

"Sounds great."


End file.
